Princess Aralyn reached the grand doors of Grimveil Castle, her steps slow but steady. As expected, her father and stepmother were already waiting, no news ever escaped their reach.
Irene rushed forward, voice sharp with mock concern.
"Oh Aralyn, for goodness' sake! What were you thinking, sneaking off like that?"
Aralyn didn't respond.
Her father's eyes darkened.
"If I didn't know better, I'd think you were trying to run away. But I know your mother raised you better than that."
He stepped closer. "What were you doing at the library after I clearly told you to prepare for the ball?"
A fire burned quietly inside Aralyn, but she kept her composure. Her father's anger was clear, and Irene was clearly enjoying every bit of it.
"I only went to get some books," Aralyn said evenly. "I didn't expect to be attacked."
Irene gasped in her usual dramatic fashion."Aralyn, do you have any idea what could've happened to you if the Zarkrath had taken your soul? Those things aren't ordinary creatures. Zarkrath are creatures of Gehenna, spawned in the deepest pits of hell. They devour not only souls but memories… erasing the very essence of existence.
Aralyn fought the urge to roll her eyes. At least she'd gained some useful information from her over-the-top stepmother.
Her father's tone hardened.
"Your tailor is waiting inside. You're under house arrest. You won't step out of this castle again until the day you're sent to your husband's house."
Then Irene chimed in, smug as ever.
"I think she should hand over the book she nearly died for."
Her father nodded in agreement.
"What?" Aralyn snapped.
She was ready to argue, but her father cut her off coldly.
"Do you dare defy the Queen's order?"
Swallowing her pride, Aralyn handed the book to Irene.
"If you want this book back," her father said, "you better be on your best behavior tomorrow. Impress the suitors."
With that, he and Irene turned and walked away hand in hand, like a pair of smug lovers.
Araleen clenched her fists. The image of slamming her stepmother against the marble wall crossed her mind far too vividly. She stormed off to the garden where guests usually gathered. "Bring my dresses," she told a nearby maid.
The tailor arrived soon after.
"My princess," she said gently, "would you like to try them on? In case any adjustments—"
Araleen said nothing. Her mind was a storm.
Paulina and Pearl, always attuned to her moods, took the dresses from the tailor, paid her, and followed their mistress quietly.
As they walked, the castle buzzed with joy. Preparations for the grand ball were in full swing. Laughter echoed through the halls.
Everyone seemed excited.
Except her.
The King had announced a rare celebration: flour, now a prized commodity, would be gifted to every citizen, distributed at dawn the next day. It was his way of honoring the occasion of the royal ball.
When Princess Aralyn entered her chambers, she didn't speak much. Her steps were slow, her expression unreadable.
"I'd like to be alone, please," she told her maids softly.
Paulina and Pearl exchanged a look, immediately sensing their princess's emotional unrest. They bowed.
"We understand, Princess. We'll go make preparations for the ball."
The moment the door closed behind them, Araleen peeled off her gown and entered the bath. Warm water embraced her like silence. She closed her senses, trying not to feel. Not to think.
But she couldn't block out the sound.
That snap, the moment the Zarkrath vanished in the library.
Someone had helped her.
And whoever it was… that person was powerful.
She sank deeper into the water, closing her eyes. Her emotions were too loud: frustration, anger, confusion. Eventually, exhaustion took over, and she drifted to sleep.
Elsewhere, atop a jagged mountain, Rhonex stood tall, his dark robe billowing in the night wind. Around him, the air still pulsed with energy, thick with death and victory.
The Zarkrath were gone.
All 2,680 of them.
He had devoured their souls.
And his trusted beast, Ramiel, had feasted on their hearts.
A satisfied smirk touched his lips. The strength he had gained tonight was immense. Deliciously so.
It was time to return.
He arrived at his estate and opened the door. Inside, Molan was waiting, seated beside a nervous tailor named Oliver. Upon seeing the Demon Lord, Oliver immediately stood and bowed.
"My lord, your garments are ready."
Rhonex nodded once. "Give them to Molan."
But Oliver hesitated. "My lord… perhaps you should try them on first, in case you'd prefer any adjustments?"
Without even turning around, Rhonex replied flatly, "I trust your work. That's enough."
Dismissed, Oliver could only nod. "Yes, my lord," he said, leaving quietly.
Rhonex went to his chamber and shed his blood-stained clothing. His body was carved with divine power, each line of muscle marked with the strength of battles fought and won. The kind of presence that could make hearts stop.
He sank into his private tub, letting the water strip away the remnants of Zarkrath blood.Tomorrow was the ball. The whole kingdom was alive with preparation, meats being roasted, halls being decorated, laughter echoing in the streets.
And Rhonex?
He had prepared something too.
A gift.
An offer the king would not refuse.
In exchange for his daughter.
The curse that bound Rhonex was still clinging tightly to him. But if he played this right, if he claimed the fox princess, he might finally have a chance to break it.
He leaned back, eyes glowing faintly gold in the dark.
Just then, the pain started again.
Rhonex clutched his chest, staggering slightly as the pressure built. His vision blurred, but thankfully, this time, he didn't cough out blood. The power he'd absorbed from the Zarkrath had fortified him more than expected.
Then it hit.
A memory.
Sudden and sharp, like a blade through the mind.
He saw himself, younger, running... dragging a little girl beside him. Her cries echoed louder than any battle he'd ever fought.
"Brother! Brother, please save me!"
They were sinking, into darkness, into something alive and merciless. No matter how hard he pulled, she slipped further away.
Tears streamed down her face. Her eyes locked onto his.
Only her face remained above the dark waters now.
He clenched his jaw, shut his eyes tightly, and summoned the one thing he had left: his mother's relic. A necklace forged from pure hellfire, pulsing with ancient magic.
He whispered the spell.
Then pressed the relic to her chest.
"I will come for you, Reenie," he swore. "Till then... take care."
And she was gone.
Swept beneath.
Rhonex jolted from the memory, gasping as he broke the water's surface. His chest rose and fell in heavy waves.
How could he have forgotten?
Reenie
His sister.
Her image was burned into his mind now, black hair, crimson eyes, a perfect reflection of their father. His throat tightened. If he had forgotten her, how many more memories had he lost?
That thought chilled him more than the water.
The relic... yes. It was inside her. It would protect her somehow. And he, Rhonex, had the ability to track it. That's why he used it.
He stepped out of the tub, droplets tracing his divine form. Molan, ever dutiful, stood ready and draped a robe over his shoulders.
"Do you have any information on Reenie?" Rhonex asked, voice low.
Molan paused. "You finally remembered her."
"I did," Rhonex said. "Where is she?"
"We suspect she's somewhere in Hell," Molan replied. "But where exactly... we don't know."
"She is in Hell," Rhonex muttered to himself, brows furrowing. "And so is the relic."
Molan nodded solemnly. "If only the curse didn't bind you to this kingdom... you could go after her."
Rhonex's expression shifted; cold, sharp... dangerous.
"I'm not worried. The necklace will keep her alive. But I know them. They're torturing her." His fists clenched. "They won't touch her body, the relic will burn them if they try. But they will try."
His golden eyes darkened, a storm behind them."Whoever took Reenie… I'll make sure they suffer a thousandfold."
He shut his eyes. For all the cruelty inside him, all the power, there was still one soul he cared for.
His sister.
The only light from a past he never meant to forget.
But fate always had its own twisted plans.
Now that the memories had begun to return, Rhonex would uncover every truth buried beneath his curse.
But first, he had a different mission.
He needed the princess.
The one who might finally break the chains fate had bound him in.